WANTED: Shichibukai!
by Toriano.Flacko
Summary: SPOILERS.Post-War.No more need for warlords?What was the World Government thinking! A look into the lives of gods, now obsolete.
1. Arc I

**Puppeteer, Doflamingo**

Despicable. Insane. Crackpot. Asshole. And his personal favorite, unhinged. These were all words used to describe Donquixote Doflamingo, normally used behind his back, rarely to his face. Almost always, in turn, punished in some untouchable, roundabout way by those most dedicated to him.

It wasn't like _he_ took offense to these words, at least, nowhere _near_ as much as his few friends did. As a matter of fact, he took them as flattery in its purest form; after all, why get angry over something if it's not true...

But then, all these words may as well have been true, when describing him... hell, he wouldn't be surprised if they had his picture in the dictionary next to any and all of those words...

So why get angry about it at all?

"Idiots," he mused to himself as he sipped his ever-present drink, unknowing of what was to happen later that day.

Life, as a constant, was getting to bore him these days. To think, just ten years ago he'd been trying and failing at making a name for himself on this sea, surviving and... Well, somehow enjoying life in general. Enjoying life much more than he was _now_, at least.

_Now_ the number of people who could actually _challenge_ him worth a damn had gone up and down sporadically, more so over the majority of the last month. After all, with the short 'vanishing act' of those up-and-coming Straw Hat pirates, that Impel Down farce, and the eventual death of both Whitebeard and the son of Gold Roger in the same battle later... It was something he was definitely unsure about. Almost as if something in the universe had snapped, gone wrong; up until _that_ day, his blood had been boiling at the thought of those idiot marines 'war', and just how he could play a turning point in it…

A killing blow, perhaps, should the Marine forces actually prove so inadequate. A sharp back-stab should he be, in the very unlikely event, _somehow_ swayed to commit a major upset in the turning of the tide against the marines. After all, he was a freakin' Shichibukai- there was no real _obligation _to stick with one side or the other.

Then again, there was that whole troublesome situation about… well, no. There _was_ no troublesome situation. Which was what made it so troublesome, coincidentally. Which only made the fact that he was bored even worse, somehow.

Seeing as he didn't feel like figuring it out himself at this point, it all comes back to original situation; booooring. Even if he had gotten to play with the old Crocodile for a little while, even _that man_, a _Logia_ for crying out loud, hadn't been able to touch him. And to think, they'd been 'fierce rivals' once upon a time...

"Out with the old, in with the new," he sighed. He knew his crew -his 'real' crew, not those weaklings that sought power under his name- made him out to be 'brooding' right now, and guessed correctly not to disturb him. It was only slightly depressing.

But then, that was the point of bringing in his new age! Challenges at every turn, hell, the possibility that he could be taken down! All of this waited, hinged upon the fall of the Red Line... the plan leading to such a thing happening needed revision, yes, but it was underway for sure.

"Nobody had better get in my way, though..." He blinked, slid on his sunglasses as the Den-Den Mushi went off, and sighed before answering. His line in particular had been going off more-than-should-be-considered usual over the past year, most being from those cocky rookie subordinates that got their butts kicked, and even more so over the aforementioned 'past week'.

Who knew the reappearance of Monkey D. Luffy, the death of a Yonkou and war at Marinebase would somehow make his number public to everyone?

"Not I," he muttered, receiver hanging from one lazy hand as he tried to outwait the call. Then he quickly tired of waiting and brought it up. "Troublesome people. What? And get to the point; I'm in no mood for idiocy today."

_"Doflamingo-sama... were we supposed to be surrounded by a fleet of unmarked battleships today?"_

He studied the Den-Den Mushi's 'face', eyebrow raised at the placid expression conveyed by the snail. Did he really need to answer that...?

"No. We weren't. I take it that we are?" A twitch from the 'face'. He debated whether or not to force whichever subordinate it was to kill himself for daring to get annoyed at _him_ (even if that _was_ his goal at one and all Shichibukai meetings with the World Government), and quickly took another sip to stop the confusion.

_"Sir... just look out of your window." _For another moment, he stared at the receiver before looking around.

"... When the hell did I get a window?"

* * *

Disclaimer: If the guy writing this story owned One Piece, why would he have come up with this?


	2. ERROR

**Pacifista, Kuma the Tyrant**

_Once upon a time, the giant of a man had longed for power. He hadn't cared which kind of power, whether it be to help people or to destroy them... no, scratch that. He desired the power that made people **fear **him. So long had the boy named Bartholomew been subjected to fear, he had eventually come to realize that he was the one that his tormentors feared, which was **why** they did what they did._

_This reasoning was not sound, and had never been, he knew. He certainly didn't want to feel the pain that being feared had brought him then. However, **that** fear, the one that those people projected, it made him... special. To be treated like no everyone else was... not necessarily above the rest, but not below them either... that was his desire. At first._

_That was before his parents had been arrested, and then, executed for trying to defend him. He'd not even had time to grieve for them before he was being hunted again._

_Then he'd realized, that because he was 'special', he could go places that no one else could. Yes, it was because he had need of those places; to hide, to sleep without fear of dying before waking up, to be... alone. How did he **know** no one else could find those places? Easy - it was because no one ever found him._

_In his solitude, somehow surviving that month, he went insane (for lack of a better word), went sane again, and became... bored. After all, the same things happening, over and over again, as the days passed by... it tended to get old. Even the bible he had read and re-read so many times began to lose its reason.  
_

_As if a miracle -or curse- had been tuning in on his thoughts, the next thing to happen couldn't have been predicted. As a matter of fact, years later he would look up the probability that such a thing could possibly happen _normally_, and the conclusion was that it could only happen if someone was born under some kind of demented, disfigured star. Then he tried putting in the probability of it happening where he lived, near the Red Line, and the chances skyrocketed._

_In a word, __pirates. Or rather, one pirate in particular.  
_

_Now, normally, his town (he knew it better than anyone by now), a violent port city protected by the thing called World Government, could take care of itself well. No pirates bothered it because, if the Marines didn't stop them, the citizens did. After all, every one of the elders had been a renowned rookie pirate at some point... which makes the 'protection' provided by the World Government not make sense._

_However. The citizens had been running themselves so ragged trying to track him down, that none of them had actually noticed the simple (grand, according to its rider) raft that infiltrated their docks. By the time anyone noticed, it was too late. They all charged at the intruder, one group after another, but..._

_Within a day, his town was burning, and he was left alone to face the single man that had caused all this destruction. The man named..._

* * *

"Tyrant of the sea, Shichibukai, Bartholomew Kuma?"

His whole body jerked as he woke up, and he blinked, squinted through his glasses at the light above him-- _wait... where are my glasses? Why am I on my back? Why can't I move?_

**_'Wow, using your own brain for the first time in a long time and already the questions are flowing. Good to have you back, boy.'_** The large man blinked some more, ignoring the voice that had woken him up in his surprise.

_'What? What is this? Why am I thinking again? Did something go wrong? Where's my bible?' _

He was confused; after those years spent traveling the Grand Line, gaining his reputation as a warlord of the sea, and being recruited by that doctor for _that_ experiment... _Shouldn't I be dead by now?_

_

* * *

  
_

**_'Finally, a question that can be answered... ah, yes. Kuma should be dead by now. That is a fact... don't ask why, because even I don't know.'_**

_'Hmm... okay then, who are you?'_

**_'Me? I am the the great...!! I am... er... Hmm. Who am I?'_**

**_

* * *

  
_**

For a moment, the giant Devil Fruit user stared up at nothing, wondering just when this would all start making sense. Then he remembered that somebody woke him up; after that 'final' procedure, he should have been deactivated. Seeing as he wasn't...

Kuma bent his head at an angle (seeing as the rest of his body _still_ wouldn't move... he had, at least, _tried_ to get up before, right? right?), but still couldn't see much more than a shadow. Giving up after trying again, he just decided to play dead... again.

"What was the question?" Or not.

"Uhh... are you Kuma the Tyrant?" The voice from before... did it sound unsure, or was it just his imagination? Hadn't he heard it... somewhere before? Or was he just imagining things?

"... As far as I know, yes. Your guess is better than mine right now. Who wants to know?"

"Hmm... ah, how do I say this? The man who's putting you under arrest wants to know...?"

"Is that a question? And if so, why are you asking me?" Here the man -it was a man, right? Probably a Marine if getting arrested was involved- coughed.

**_'Okay, now you're confusing me.'_**

"Ah, well, I mean... I'll be asking the questions here, er... sir."

"If that is how it is, I am not altogether sure that you will get many answers..." They both paused here, more for the sake of their own mental health than anything. Then,

"Let's start over, hi, my name is Captain Curry. I am not new to this rank but I have a reputation for doing things to lose it. I have been reappointed it for this mission and this mission only. You may refer to me as... uh... Bojangles, and your name is?"

"Well, uh, first of all, what is today's date?"

"What?"

**_'What?'_**

"Just tell me, please... you."

"... This may come as a shock to you, but... I don't know."

"Why would that come as a shock to me?"

**_'Hmmm... should I? Nah, I shouldn't... so I won't.'_** Kuma's eye twitched.

"You know... I don't have the slightest idea why. Uhh... it's been, oh... over a week since your Pacifistas at Marineford were, er... engaged in battle with the... well, a lot of pirates. Pirates from the New World. And... well, the government was impressed with their effectiveness... for the first few minutes. Then they took a headcount later on and counted only four... out of about fifteen." The Shichibukai cocked his head to the side

"They only made fifteen in the first place, didn't they?"

"Yeah, and thanks to a couple of rookies and yourself back at Shaobondy Archipelago, only twelve made it to the actual fight. So that's about... uhh... some of them didn't make it through the night. And since they costed... a lot. Since they costed a lot to make in the first place, they just canceled the project altogether..."

* * *

_'Ah, I see.'_

_**'Eh? See what?'**_

_'A couple of days ago, my research with Dr. Vegapunk ended, so I was supposed to be disposed of once the first seven were operational--'_

_**'Seven? Why seven?'**_

_'One for every warlord... even though I would already be dead. Maybe they were already looking for my replacement? I do not know...'_

_**'Ah, okay. Continue.'**_

_'Anyway, Bartholomew Kuma was to be disposed of once the first seven Pacifistas were operational. Of course, that was delayed when two were **unexpectedly** taken out of commission near the Red Line... Still, I did not see the day of the war, so I suppose I was deactivated sometime before then.'_

_**'You seem to be taking this -no- have taken this rather well, don't you think? The World Government uses your body for their demented experiments, they throw you away when they think they've made a perfect warrior, they try and fail to bring you all the way back to life when that fails... and then try to arrest you. Well, sorry, no try. They HAVE arrested you...'**_

_'Yeah...'_

_**'You know, a lesser man such as me would have a problem with that... although I do not seem to be a man at all...!!'**_

_'Yeah...'_

_**'That was your cue to laugh... I think.'**_

_'Yeah... wait, what the hell?! Disposed of?! Deactivated?!? ARRESTED?!?'_

_**'Eh?'**_

_'What the hell does he mean, **canceled**?!?'_

_

* * *

_

Captain Bojangles 'CK' Curry, had no idea just what was happening when the large Shichibukai, who had only moments before been a prone figure lying on a steel table in front of him, listing in a daze, suddenly sat up and screamed.

That being said, his squad had no idea what _had_ happened when they, having been been calmly waiting in the background for further orders besides 'take it easy', suddenly found themselves in a brothel full of particularly desperate women. None of those laid back soldiers were seen for the next few weeks.

* * *

O.o Where did this come from? Alright, Tor knows Kuma may have been a little OOC in this... and most of this one was very confusing...

Chapter 2: Kuma, FTL!! XP

Disclaimer: If the guy writing this story owned One Piece, why would he have come up with this?


	3. Too Cool

**Sandman, Crocodile**

"Hmmmm..."

As a Devil Fruit user and public megalomaniac, Borneas Boreen Morpheus (formerly and formally known as 'Sir' Crocodile and Mr. Zero) knew it was important to keep up with happenings in the world. He had only come to realize this after failing to take over that one desert kingdom that one time; if he had payed more attention, maybe things wouldn't have turned out _quite_ the way they did.

As a man recently released from prison ('released' being the optional word here), and having known only those other inmates that kept asking what day it was, the man knew the best way to do so -keep up with the times- was via newspaper. Despite public opinion, newspaper had plenty of uses, especially for the sand-sand man. For instance.

What could he use to cover his head when it rained in this backwater town he'd jumped ship -well, submarine- to?

Newspaper! What could he use to whack the estranged native animals away when they attempted to eat him?

Newspaper! What could he use to hide his face while waiting for his food in a restaurant after seeing a WANTED poster depicting the man he used to look like, along with those of the (other) seven Shichibukai?

His lunch menu!!

What? Oh, sorry, that was wrong. They already took up the menus. NEWSPAPER!!

"This... is somewhat troublesome..."

Needless to say, the man had found a new respect for newspapers. Especially so because there happened to be a heavily fortified and independent militant organization of former Marines on this island. His dining partners, however, could not understand his paranoia.

Then again, taking a look at who they were, the reason why becomes obvious.

"Whatcha lookin' at, Croc-boy~?" The karate man should have been in danger of falling off the thin stack of utensils he stood on top of, even then above the uneven table. As it was, he just continued to spin on the tip of a knife... balanced on a varying arrangement of tea cups, spoons, forks and napkins. That reached at least three feet, _straight up_.

"Really now, how long do you think you'll get away with calling him that, Clay?" The hooded one whispered loudly from next to the window, the very essence of the phrase 'way too incognito'. Obviously from his style and the way his hands shook, he'd already had one too many cups of coffee... or hadn't been near a mirror for a while. After all, there was no hiding the drooping 3 that sat atop his... top-knotted... head? Does that make sense?

Scratch that, no wonder he gets owned all the time.

"Hmmmm...." The sharply dressed man (no shit) next to Morpheus meditated... essentially ignoring the two idiots. Wait, he _was_ meditating, right? Either that, _or_ he was sleeping with his eyes slightly open. Either way the result was the same; intimidate weaker-minded people without really doing anything.

Yes, they had at least half of the entire diner to themselves. The other half was overcrowded with the slightly more sane, native population... all of whom were somehow completely ignoring the four monsters.

"Oh~, he'll tell me when he gets tired of it~! Either that, or he'll try to kill me~! Whichever way he chooses, I... hmmm, probably won't stop anyway~!!"

Oh, yes. Morpheus -Crocodile- was familiar with the nickname by now, such to the point where he could ignore it on purpose. Not that he ever answered to the name anyway. Then again, what with the WANTED poster being right there on the wall, and people giving him strange looks -almost as if they had the feeling that it was him- he actually wanted to stop being called that now. Partially because he despised that nickname, partially because he would _not_ be referred to as such by someone younger than him...

But mostly because _that_ nickname ruined his chances with any lady he happened to have his eye on at the moment. So it needed to either stop or be condemned to River Styx.

_'Hmm, what can I use to cause this fool bodily pain and suffering enough to cut it out with the name?_' Well there was his hooked hand...

"OWIE!!"

... But the newspaper won out in the end. In a smooth move, a vital part of Clay's 'tower' went missing, sending the okama crashing into the table... at least, it would have had he stopped spinning. As it was, he landed safely on his strangely powerful toes... but three whacks later one of Morpheus' former subordinates was lying face first down on the table, three lumped knots rising from his head.

"Can't say I didn't tell him..." Another whack, this time aimed across the table. "Hey!"

"Shut up and get this fool off the table before I dry you out again..." Ah, yes, _there_ was that menacing tone. He'd missed that menacing tone. That menacing tone got things done, unlike some people...

What? Come on, the guy was in the lowest known level of Impel Down, stuck with quite a few people, like, _that much_ stronger than he had been. Down there that voice had meant nothing... mostly because there was nothing to do in the first place. He was bound to go insane sooner or later. Don't believe it?

_'Ah... it's the glasses. Nobody recognizes me like this, but I'm like **that** much scarier with them... I totally rule...'_

Yeah. Believe it. Anyway, life was good...

At least, it was until the shadow of one Fleet Admiral Sengoku (The Buddha) usurped his personal space. However, unlike _some_ tactless people, one in particular, his first reaction was not to gape up at the imposing figure, who was rumored to never leave Marjoria except in dire situations...

No, his first reaction was to completely snuff the admittedly older man, look outside of the window, and note the small troop of Vice-Admirals staring right at him outside the diner. Counting them all up, he looked higher, to the dust cloud growing darker on the not-so-far-away horizon.

Smirking, he turned back to see that the ignorant townspeople mentioned earlier now had a murderous intent hanging over them. Still not looking at the former-Admiral, he sipped his coffee.

"Pirate scum... you _do_ realize that you are under arrest, yes? Or is that too hard for your under-developed brain to comprehend? No need to read you your rights, then..."

"Incompetent fool." This statement obviously caught Sengoku (_the_ Sengoku, dammit!!) off-guard, if the shifting look on his face meant anything. "There's something you don't seem to understand here... once you're an ex, you _despise_ the organization that kicked you out. That hate makes you grow stronger, stronger, to the point where you have to be _insane_ to handle so much power. You used to have that kind of hate... but you don't anymore."

"Is that so?" Obviously the fool did not translate. Morpheus sighed. _No real need to be patient anymore..._

"This is the _New World_, Marine. The _first island_. You do remember what this island is, yes?" It was as if the others, his subordinates, had disappeared, and it was just him, the Admiral, and a herd of angry townspeople in the room. He smirked at the bead of sweat rolling down the older man's face. _Ah... and here I thought this day would never come..._

"This is _Jintel_, where all Marines' brats get bumped off when their parents die. And you know something? After all this time, all the hate they must feel for the bastards that kicked them out for no reason, bastards that _don't even live two day's journey away..._ they've all gotta be pretty angry after all these years, right?"

Next the townspeople disappeared, and all was silent. Checking outside of the window again, he smiled.

"Thank god for the rednecks," he muttered as he flipped his newspaper open.

* * *

_O.o Err... no, Tor-san has nothing against rednecks, just... no other word does them violent, bloodthirsty justice like... well.. that. And hey, this is Crocodile here, he would try to call them all hicks. Oh, and by 'change in his appearance', he means he's wearing normal clothes that a normal human would wear, and a pair of glasses. Don't you just love how oblivious people can be?_

_Had most of this one up for a while, and the manga is actually up to speed on this point. Hoo-shaa for Oda and scantalators!! Kind of dark, though, and unrealistic, don't ya think? This chapter? And blast this crappy, beautiful, hard-ass, delicate piece of junky hardware!! Let's me type the rest up, then goes on the fritz and won't lemme check out my own work for five hours straight, THEN CRASHES!!_

_But then, this counts as, like the second thing Tor-san posted today. So... sorry Terminal!!_

_Disclaimer: If the guy writing this story owned One Piece, why would he have come up with this?_


	4. The Escape Artist

**TorThaTerrible**

**Tor: TT^TT Why, oh, why have I stayed away so long? Got distracted, that's why. That's not an excuse, that's a fault. **

**Free: Faults aren't good things, right?**

**Tor: No they're not. Not unless you get put up as a poster child for teen angst and let's face it, neither of us is doing that just yet.**

**Free: ... What do you mean 'yet'?**

**Disclaimer: Okay, so the timing is barely off. Deal, neh? TorThaTerrible does not own One Piece**

Gecko Moria - Houdini's Slimy Cousin

The largest twin points of the spiky hairdo poked into the hall like antennae, waving this way then that way. Sensing no creature intelligent enough to suspect him of _anything_ while dressed in this form, they were shortly followed by a body that still had no chance of possibly fitting into the crack that it had, in fact, emerged from.

Sure he wasn't quite the size that he had been before -he could _see_ his _feet_ for crying out loud- but it still should not have been physically possible. That, as well as the fact that he had managed to survive his own death? If he didn't know any better, he would have called himself God and been done with it.

But then, God never got his ass kicked, let alone by a freak in pink*.

"Damn this bony piece of crap," he hissed as the legs bent awkwardly; normally for the body, but not so much for the mind running it. "Really, how did a guy with two-jointed legs make it this far in the Line? Better than that, what were they doing with him here... wherever here is?"

It wasn't like he really cared beyond the fact that these strange movements and the slight malnutrition (compared to his own diet, extreme malnutrition), seeing as they could now hold him back from his quick escape. Nevertheless, he was worried.

He truly hadn't expected that damned flamingo to turn around and just kick his ass like that. Really, it had _hurt_. But the fact remained that they were both pirates, and when a pirate has something to gain by destroying another, said pirate _will_ do it.

In this case, Doflamingo still proved 'above average', instead having been following the orders of a higher power if that baby snail transponder meant anything. But Moria didn't care about that.

"What the hell _was _that power, anyway? I thought there were supposed to be only three types of akuma no mi? That... there's no way that was a Paramecia. Not a Zoan, not a Logia type either." He _wanted_ that power. But he didn't even know what it was. You see his problem, yes? "And how long is this freaking hallway anyway?"

Back then, he had been beaten to a pulp by that pink bastard. Thankfully, he had managed to body-jump to an unconscious Marine on the battlefield before he had struck the 'final' blow (it was actually an accident, more a reflex than anything, not that he would admit that), and that bastard's shades seemed to have covered his escape unnoticed (although later he would swear that even that was part of his plan).

But then that freak Akainu had gotten pissed, mistaken this Marin for dead, and melted him to a slag heap to let off some stress (and that had been painful) and so he had been forced into yet another body... when he had awakened, about three weeks ago, he was in the familiar darkness of a dungeon, in the unfamiliar situation of being chained to a wall, and after escaping those with a little shadow-shaping, he was home free...

Or not. It turned out that this bloody palace was just a confusing as Thriller Bark had been once upon a time, except this place didn't even have a map! Which now sucked for him. Oh, wait, is that daylight in the distance?

"And the next time I see that pedobear lookin' son of a bastard I'm gonna-" SHIT. Leave it to him to find an exit that ended in a sharp cliff drop. Joy. _Now_ how was he going to- wait, is that a Marine ship down there?

Later on, Moria would realize that it should have been impossible for him to escape the one place he would never have entered willingly. This would happen as he made a 'tactical retreat' from the palace gates with an army of loyal, if not zombified, followers, fully prepared to take on the New World again.

Even later he would realize that, not only had he escaped the Holy Land, Mariejoa, but it was only possible because of the body he had hijacked. Which happened to belong to the Ex-Supernova, Jonn Jones, the human bomb.

Until then he would curse every all he ran through, unknowing that his fellow ex-warlords were being 'escorted' into the building just below.

* * *

*- Much later, Moria would find that 'God' _had_ gotten his ass handed to him, and would get his ass kicked again, this time by a freak in pink.

Wow, this took a while to come up with. Hopefully TorThaTerrible timed it right. XD


End file.
